Page 138 of Song of the Dark Wood

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ROWAN

Rowan was a storm tearing through the village with all the fury of an unwilling sacrifice. It felt good to be taking action instead of waiting for her life to happen to her, and regardless of how things turned out, she felt immense gratitude to Conor for empowering her. The only way out was through, so she walked into town, dragging the Dark Wood behind her.

Rowan, Conor, and Charlie clamored into the town square. People ran screaming in different directions, fights breaking out on every street corner. It was complete chaos, and at the center of it all, the Elder Tree was burning.

“I always hated that thing,” Rowan said dryly. It was macabre to have a tree transplanted from the Dark Wood that bled whenever a Red Maiden died. “Maybe it’s time for some old things to burn.”

She shook her head, looking back at the chaos. “All of this because people were afraid of the blight. All of this hurt, all of this loss. Will men never cease to spread misery rather than dealing with their own hurts?”

Finn burst around the corner like a storybook hero in his white tunic and golden cloak embroidered with the symbol ofthe Mother and surrounded by the flames of the burning village. He looked more vital than he had at Maiden’s Tower, as if something supernatural bolstered him and, taking in his new regalia, Rowan wondered if the Mother was close by.

Finn’s cheeks were smeared with soot, and his hand was poised on the hilt of his sword, ready to stand and fight. He stopped short when he saw Rowan’s hand in Conor’s.

Finn swallowed hard. “You have to stop destroying the town. I’m not your enemy, Rowan. I’m on your side, but this has gone too far.”

“And what side is that?” she asked. Some foolish part of her held out hope that he could really learn—that he’d somehow see the error of his ways and actually listen to her for once—that he’d seen the violence in the tower and would fight for what was right instead of upholding more outdated ideas and principles.

“The side of what’s good and right,” Finn replied.

“You mean the side who let me walk into the Dark Wood to service the god of death? The side who unnecessarily kept me from having a family and friends? The side who let a mob of people kill a ten-year-old girl out of some mistaken sense of duty?”

The Elder Tree shuddered in response to the anger that rose in Rowan. Finn looked from her to the tree in confusion. She wanted so badly to display her strength for the man who’d refused to think of her as anything other than someone who needed saving, but she reminded herself that he had fought for Aeoife.

She pitied Finn. He’d never bothered to break the mold their world cast for him. She’d tried to make him see, and he’d still insisted he knew what was best. He thought it was well-meaning, even while ignoring how patronizing it felt to be on the receiving end of his good deeds.

Conor squeezed Rowan’s hand. “I assume you’re the one who wanted to take my lovely Rowan from me,” he said to Finn.

Finn drew his sword and took a step toward her and the Wolf. Rowan had to hand it to Finn—he was as brave as he was stupid.

“May I, love?” Conor kissed her hand tenderly.

“Take what you need,” Rowan whispered.

Conor tugged on her magic, and she let it go. The sweetest melodic magic buzzed through them as their power married in a glowing blueish light that flowed between them with ease.

“Rowan, stop! What are you doing? He’ll kill you!” Finn’s panicked shout rose above the melody.

Conor gently drew his hand away. He cupped Rowan’s face in his hands. “Are you all right?”

She smiled up at him. “I feel fine.”

“Charlie?” Conor called without turning away from Rowan.

“She looks just as bright as always,” Charlie confirmed.

Conor’s shoulders relaxed and he pulled her into a kiss. Relief flooded Rowan’s body, pulsing out through her limbs. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer. Their plan was very risky. It relied heavily on speculation. If this was their last kiss, she wanted to make it good. She lost herself in the feeling of his hands on her, the whiskey taste of him, and the warmth and love that tingled in her body.

Finally, Conor drew away. “I hope you’re not trying to kiss me goodbye, love,” he whispered.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I like to be prepared for anything. There’s more where that came from later.”

Conor chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.” His smile was a beautiful threat that she hoped he delivered on.

“Go. I can handle Finn,” she said, waving her hand.

Conor hesitated. She knew he wanted to protect her, but she also knew she’d made the right choice when he nodded and left her to take care of herself anyway.

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